PartTime
by GrimmUlquigrrrl
Summary: Ulquiorra Schiffer owns a pet store, and he's always been able to run it on his own. But when a young man shows up asking for a job, he figures he could use the help. Based on, but not ripped off of, Happy Pet Pet.
1. Chapter 1

Ulquiorra sat behind the counter of his small pet store, looking through a catalog of animal toys. Now that his shop was becoming established he had more customers, and most of them weren't looking for new pets but for products for the pets they already had. The turtle in the tank sitting to his right stuck its head out of the water. The bell above the door jingled and he looked up to assess his new customer. It was a gruff-looking teenager, well-built for his apparent age wearing baggy blue jeans and a black hoodie. What was interesting about him, however, wasn't his clothes but his hair. It was blue and clearly untamed. The teen looked around the little ship irritably, as if assessing the place as Ulquiorra had assessed him. Ulquiorra made a mental note to be careful of this one. He sat a little straighter on his stool as the boy came over, hands in his pockets. "Why do you have those weird tear tattoos?" he asked rudely. "Why do you have those weird triangle tattoos?" Ulquiorra asked back coolly. The teen frowned angrily. "'Cuz I like 'em," he said. "There you go," Ulquiorra said simply, circling some feed in the catalog with a black sharpie marker. The teen 'tch'ed. "Hey, you don't have any help here, right?" he asked. "You're the only one that works here.""Correct," Ulquiorra said. "So, do you need help?" Ulquiorra looked up at the young man with his eyebrow slightly raised. This boy was asking for a job. "I don't have a help wanted sign out, do I?" he asked wryly. The teen jerked his head to the side, looking away and glaring at one of the pale blue walls. "Yeah, well, just 'cuz you don't need help doesn't mean you don't want it," he said. "I'll do anything you tell me to. I ain't picky." Ulquiorra opened his mouth to turn the teen away, but he paused. He did run the store by himself, and it certainly was a lot of work. Keeping it clean took at least two hours every day that could be used in some other way."What's your name?" he asked instead, leaning on the counter a little."Grimmjow Jaegerjaques," Grimmjow answered promptly. "And how often would you be able to work?" Ulquiorra inquired, calculating the chances in his head."Every day after school," Grimmjow answered quickly. "I can be here as early as 3:15. And I can work full time on weekends and breaks." Well, he was certainly pulling out all the stops. "Summer included." Ulquiorra looked at him for a prolonged moment before standing up and walking out from behind the counter."That room in the back," he said, pointing at it, "is the sick room. I look over all of the animals that arrive in there to be sure that they're healthy. Do not go back there unless instructed. That glass cage over there is for the larger birds-""There's nothing in there.""They don't arrive until tomorrow," Ulquiorra said. "Don't interrupt. when they do get here I expect you to stay away from them. The rabbits are over there, and the same applies to them. The felines are kept in a separate room over there, and currently we have no dogs. Don't touch them either. In fact, don't get near any of the animals. Also, if it looks breakable don't go near it. I will pay you $7.50 an hour for your work, and I will expect you here no later than 30 every day. I would like to see you Saturdays as well, but Sundays are not required.""Can I come anyway?" Grimmjow asked. Ulquiorra looked at him."You certainly are eager to spend as much time here as possible, Grimmjow," he said. "Have you developed a crush on me so soon?" Grimmjow glared a little. "I need the money," he said. "Not to feed an addiction, I trust," Ulquiorra said, making it clear that such action would not be tolerated. "My father made out with all of my college money," Grimmjow said. "I see," Ulquiorra said. As long as it wasn't anything that would interfere with Grimmjow's ability to work, he wouldn't ask any questions. "It is acceptable to work Sundays if you wish, but I will expect you here by six so you can help me open up. That goes for Saturdays as well. The shop doesn't close until eight, but on school nights you may leave at 7:30. If your grades suffer, I will be forced to let you go.""Gotcha," Grimmjow said. "You do not need to be dressy, but do look put-together," Ulquiorra said. "I don't need your interesting appearance to startle customers any more than is necessary.""So, something like what you're wearing?" Grimmjow asked, looked and Ulquiorra's black pants and grey button-down shirt. "Yes, something like it," Ulquiorra replied. "Are you willing to start now?""Sure thing," Grimmjow said. "Whaddaya need me to do?""Aside from the large birds coming tomorrow, there will be some smaller breeds," Ulquiorra said. "I have some hanging bird cages that I need to have up by the time they arrive." Grimmjow nodded. "They in the boxes over there?" he asked. "Yes. Your tools are over there as well, and the ladder is in the closet behind the counter. I want them in the corner above the large bird cage, but space them out so the birds don't fight. Don't tear my roof down.""Yessir," Grimmjow said, heading over. He stopped and looked back with a questioning look on his face. "So, what do I call you, boss man?""Mr. Schiffer when customers are around," Ulquiorra said. "But otherwise Ulquiorra is fine.""That's a helluva weird name," Grimmjow said. "And yours isn't?"Grimmjow grumbled.


	2. Chapter 2

Ulquiorra walked up to his shop in the chilly winter air, digging his hand into his pocket for his keys. They were cold against his fingers, much like everything else this time of year. Christmas was coming, and most people had ridiculous decorations marring the otherwise traditional shopping center. It was simple, a large parking lot with many small shops all crammed in around it, and Ulquiorra's was in the left corner. People had signs for sales hanging wildly all around it, and cars left dirty tire tracks in the snow. Ulquiorra really hated how hodge-podge it looked, even if winter was his favorite season. _His_ store, at least, was tidy and undecorated.

He stopped in front of it, pulling out his keys and quickly sliding them into the lock. "Hey, Ulquiorra!" he heard someone call from behind him, and he looked up. Across the street and still a few buildings down, not yet in the shopping square, he caught sight of his new employee. He checked his watch; it was still a little before six. Grimmjow jogged up, and Ulquiorra noted that today he was wearing exactly what Ulquiorra had told him to. Surprisingly enough, the pale yellow worked well with his odd coloring. His sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows, despite the chilly air. The teen loped up to him, his breath making clouds in front of his face. He had the expression of a little boy who had just found a quarter in the sandbox, of someone who was just glad to be outside on a beautiful, if cold, day. After his displays of less than eagerness yesterday, Ulquiorra was somewhat thrown off by the expression.

"I'm surprised you're already showing up early," Ulquiorra said, "considering that you've only just taken the job."

"Yeah, well, like I said, I need the money really bad," Grimmjow said. "'Sides, it's a Saturday. Nothing every happens on Saturdays, so I might as well be here."

"You are incorrect," Ulquiorra said. "Much happens on Saturdays at my shop. That's when shipments normally come. In fact, the birds are coming today. Did you get all of the cages hung?"

"All but two," Grimmjow answered. "I can have them both up in thirty minutes." Ulquiorra opened the door and stepped in, and it felt odd to have Grimmjow follow him. He shrugged off his coat.

"Don't rush," he said, putting it behind the counter. "The birds don't get here until eleven and I need those to be right." He walked up to the wall of windows for people to look through while walking by, leaning down and unlatching the metal grate that covered one third of it. He heaved it up and pushed it into the ceiling with a loud banging noise that woke up the rabbits, who bolted up and stood stalk-still in fear. Ulquiorra felt bad for ignoring that. Grimmjow must not have, though, because he bolted around his boss to left the next one. It slid up noisily. The blue-haired teen moved with the boundless energy of a two-year-old, and it made Ulquiorra motion sick to watch.

He just shook his head. As long as that energy went into his job.

!~!$%^&*&^!~!$%^&*(&^%$!~

Ulquiorra held down the last parakeet, checking the luster of its eyes as all the other small birds darted around inside the sick room. The large birds had already been placed in their enclosures, and Ulquiorra had Grimmjow laying down newspaper on the bottoms of the hanging cages while he finished checking up on the soon-to-be resident songbirds. It wouldn't be too good to put them in their cages only to take them out, especially if they just went back in again, so Ulquiorra had opted to set them loose in here until everything was ready.

"Hey, boss," Grimmjow called from outside the door, "all the cages are ready."

"Thank you, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra called. He could feel the heartbeat of this fragile little creature drumming against his thumbs, the very life of the little green bird making itself known to him. She was warm.

He let her go, watching her take flight beautifully. He walked over to the door, getting his face very close to it and calling, "Grimmjow." his employee answered, voice muffled, and Ulquiorra said, "I need you to hold the door closed- the front door. Don't let anyone in."

"There's somebody already in here," Grimmjow said. "Do I tell him to get lost?"

"_No, no, no," Ulquiorra said quickly. "Don't do that." Then, what did he tell him to do? He couldn't kick the customer out and keep what little reputation he'd built, but at the same time he didn't trust Grimmjow to hands a customer on his own. That wasn't what he'd hired him for. Still, if Ulquiorra opened the door to go out then the birds would come too, and Ulquiorra didn't want to risk accidentally crushing one as he closed the door. They were so easily broken. He sighed. "Grimmjow, ask him if he minds some birds flying around," he said. "Tell him they're just parakeets."_

"'_Kay, hold on," Grimmjow said, his voice fading out in the last word as he walked away. Ulquiorra waited tensely. Grimmjow didn't seem to be much of a people person, and the last thing Ulquiorra needed was to have a foul-mouthed worker driving people away. He wouldn't hesitate to get rid of that worker if something like that began to happen. The birds chirped. "Hey, he says it's okay," Grimmjow said, coming back. Ulquiorra nodded, though Grimmjow couldn't see it._

"_Stand back from the door," Ulquiorra warned as he opened the door. Only a few birds rushed out, most of them preferring to stay perched where they were in the sick room. Ulquiorra carefully closed the door, being extra sure not to catch any unsuspecting birds, before turning to his customer. "Hello, sir," he said respectfully, stepping past Grimmjow. "Are you finding everything alright?"_

"_Um, actually," the pudgy man said, "I can't seem to find any Beneful cat food. I thought you carried it…?"_

"_Oh, yes," Ulquiorra said, "we ran out a few days ago. I'm terribly sorry." He walked up to one of the little birds perched on the edge of one of the shelves, holding out two fingers and scooping the animal onto them. "I just ordered more, but it won't be here for another week. If you tell me what diet needs your cat has I can suggest another brand to last you the week."_

"_Well, she's just kind of picky," the man said as Ulquiorra climbed the ladder up to one of the cages, the parakeet still sitting on his fingers. "She won't eat a lot of stuff."_

"_If she's so picky that she's limiting her diet she may actually have a gastrointestinal problem," Ulquiorra said, looking at the man as he opened the cage door. The parakeet hopped in without much urging. "She may just be allergic to something. Sometimes the problems are so subtle that even the most attentive pet owner can't find an issue."_

"_Really?" the man asked, looking worried and interested. _

"_Certainly," Ulquiorra said. "If you'll bring her in, I can do a basic test. There's no blood draws or needles, and it's less expensive than going to a veterinarian." The man perked up and Ulquiorra gently caught another bird as it flew past him, pinning its wings to its body with his palms. It squawked in surprise but didn't put up a struggle, and Ulquiorra easily deposited it in the cage with the other. _

"_Can you really do that?" the man asked. _

"_Yeah, can you really do that?" Grimmjow echoed. Ulquiorra shot him a shut-up look and turned back to his customer._

"_Yes, sir, I would be happy to," he said. "We're open every day from six to eight."_

"_That's wonderful!" the man said. "Can I bring her in on Monday/"_

"_Of course, Mr. ...?"_

"_Shiahawa Kyouya," the man said._

"_Ulquiorra Schiffer," Ulquiorra responded. "Any time on Monday is great."_

"_Thanks a bunch!" Mr. Shiahawa said. "I'll come back then and bring Sweetie. Thanks again!"_

"_Any time," Ulquiorra said, descending the ladder to shake Mr. Shiahawa's hand. It was warm, but Ulquiorra had to adjust the force of his hold to be softer. This one was more of a softie, but not a total weakling. _

"_Woah!" Grimmjow shouted from behind, and Ulquiorra turned just in time to see him dodge a kamikaze parakeet. The parakeet pulled out of its dive sharply and angled up, and Ulquiorra could see that in its way to loop around and try again it would fly right past him. He let go of Mr. Shiahawa's hand quickly and formed a diamond with his two hands like the way his old PE coach told him to catch a football, readying himself. The parakeet flew right into the hole, and as soon as he was in to the breast Ulquiorra swiftly but cautiously closed his hands around him. _

_The little bird bullet squeaked and fought self-righteously, and Ulquiorra could feel him trying to flap its pinned wings. He turned his head and said, "Well, Mr. Shiahawa, I will see you Monday. Now that all of the parakeets are caught it is safe for you to open the door. Thank you for putting up with the madness."_

"_Of course," Mr. Shiahawa said. "See you Monday. Thanks again!" Ulquiorra nodded respectfully and made his way carefully up the ladder. Robbed of the use of his hands, he ordered Grimmjow to hold the ladder steady until he could release the little devil in his clutch. The bell above the door rang as Mr. Shiahawa left. Ulquiorra held the bird in the cage, squawking, for a moment before quickly letting it go, immediately slamming the grate door of the cage and latching it firmly. The problem bird beat his wings against the sides of the cage, making a high-pitched shrieking sound and making the two other, more mellow birds shrink from him. Ulquiorra sighed. _

_He clambered down the ladder, pulling the store's key from his pocket. He tossed them to Grimmjow, saying, "Here, go lock the door. And stay away from the places a bird would perch." He didn't let Grimmjow do this out of trust, but because he needed Grimmjow away from the animals as much as possible. And that key was the only copy made; Ulquiorra would know very quickly if Grimmjow did something with it. _

_He opened the door to the sick room, the parakeets inside that had been worked up from the screeching their comrade had made bursting forth around him. He looked around a moment later to see where they landed; two of them were sitting on a rather irritated Grimmjow's head. _

_How comical. _


	3. Chapter 3

_**Ulquiorra pulled out of the plastic bag in his hand a cold, tiny, pink body. He dangled the baby mouse by its tail and gently lay it down in the mulch inside the glass cage. He knew that, soon enough, the red corn snake inside would find and eat it. The microwave beeped behind the counter, and Ulquiorra softly closed the lid to the enclosure and left the wall of reptiles, etc. behind. Grimmjow, walking in the door, asked, "What are you cooking? It smells gross."**_

_**Ulquiorra checked the clock. 3:17. "You're quite well on time," he commented. "I assume you go to school somewhere around here?"**_

"_**Las Noches, down the street," Grimmjow said. Ulquiorra recognized the name- only a five minute drive away, but Grimmjow probably walked. "Seriously, what is that?"**_

"_**A pinkie," Ulquiorra answered, opening his dinosaur of a microwave and pulling said pinkie out. Grimmjow's face scrunched up.**_

"_**Ew," he said. "It's not alive**_** when you put it in there, is it?" Ulquiorra rolled his green eyes, closing the appliance. **

"**It's as dead as all the others, Grimmjow," he said. "I'm the owner of a pet shop, do you really think I would do something like that to an innocent animal?" Grimmjow shrugged. **

"**Hey, I have to ask, right?" he said. "So, why did you cook it?"**

"**Some snakes won't eat them cold," Ulquiorra said, carrying the steaming infant in the pale of his hand to the king snake. It was, of course, warm in his hand. "They're also hard when they're cold, and some snakes don't like **_**that.**_**"**

"**Why don't you feed them live pinkies?" Grimmjow asked. Ulquiorra felt a little odd in the stomach at the thought. **

"**It teaches them to attack things that move," he said. "That makes handling them problematic. Even non-poisonous snakes can inflict some pretty nasty soft tissue damage, and the last thing I need is to get sued because someone looses a finger. Besides, predation may be natural but that doesn't mean I have to see it."**

"**Gotcha," Grimmjow said, hands in his pockets. "So, what've you got for me to do?"**

"**You can grab the broom and dustpan from the closet and sweep up under the birds," Ulquiorra said. They had, like all birds, kicked and dropped their food onto the floor below the cluster of cages, and that was hardly attractive. "In fact, do that every day."**

"**On it," Grimmjow said, already rummaging in the closet. Ulquiorra dropped the pinkie into the cage, and the king snake (whose name was Elvis- the King) quickly slithered up to it and coiled, as if he believed that it was alive and would run away. It didn't. **

**Ulquiorra looked up as the bell above the door echoed. A rather familiar looking man walked in with a cat carrier under his big arm. Ulquiorra straightened. "Hello, Mr. Shiahawa," eh said. "Good to see you back again. Is this your picky cat?"**

"**Yes, Sweetie," Mr. Shiahawa said, holding up the crate to show a long-haired Persian locking its paw slowly. She looked up pretentiously and boredly as she felt Ulquiorra looking at her. She didn't seem to be much of a sweetie. **

"**Excellent," Ulquiorra said. "I already have everything set out in the back room, so if you'll follow me…" He didn't want to call it the sick room in front of a worried pet owner. Mr. Shiahawa shuffled after him to the back of the small shop, and Grimmjow piped:**

"**Can I watch?"**

"**When you finish that," Ulquiorra said. He didn't actually much want Grimmjow in there, but he wasn't going to argue that in front of a customer. He wasn't sure Grimmjow would throw a fit, but he wasn't going to take the chance. He knew very well how people put on a good façade when they needed something- like a job. Grimmjow's face brightened a little and he returned to his work with vigor. **

**Ulquiorra closed the door after Mr. Shiahawa, who placed his cat and her carrier gently on the shiny examination table, which stood on one very thick leg that was nailed down. A precaution for when larger animals were running around. There were multiple bowls laid out, each with a different brand of food, and the list of ingredients was taped to the table by each one. Mr. Shiahawa looked around doggedly. Ulquiorra knew that this room, with its white tile creeping up the white walls, rows of sterile cages against the right wall, gleaming metal, and blue-tinted light could be intimidating. It was a cold-feeling room… or at least he was told. **

**Ulquiorra stepped forward and, with his equally-as-white-as-the-tile fingers, deftly opened the crate. Sweetie padded out slowly as he stepped back, looking around with a critical eye. She clearly was a very pampered cat, and Ulquiorra wondered for a moment if maybe she **_**was**_** just incredibly picky. But, that was the point of this experiment. Ulquiorra sat on one of the three plastic chairs up against the wall, settling in. he knew how long it could take an overly-pleasured cat to decide to eat. **

"**So, how does this work?" Mr. Shiahawa asked.**

"**We just sit and wait for her to eat," Ulquiorra said. "Animals often know what they can and can't eat in a way that people don't, so when she does pick a bowl we can look at what it does or doesn't have that's different from the rest, and know to stay away from that or those things. How long ago was the last time she did eat?" he asked. He was prepared to wait, but he at least wanted a guesstimate of how long it may be.**

"**Not since two nights ago," Mr. Shiahawa said. Ulquiorra looked at him.**

"**What?" he asked, needing to be sure he heard that right.**

"**Yeah," Mr. Shiahawa said, "she doesn't eat very much, even when she likes the food." Ulquiorra's lips pursed and stood up, striding over to the cat and worming his hands underneath her laying form. Beneath all that fur, she was chronically thin. "What?" Mr. Shiahawa asked, a note of urgency entering his voice. "What does that mean?"**

"**That's it's not an issue with the food," Ulquiorra said. "If she's not eating, its an actual physical problem in the gastrointestinal tract that doesn't allow her to."**

"**Like what?" Mr. Shiahawa asked, hovering over Ulquiorra's shoulder as he carefully palpitated the growling cat's stomach. **

"**Like a twist or blockage," Ulquiorra explained. He wasn't going to say so, but if this had been going on to long then it may already be too late. The door opened a little, and Grimmjow poked his head in.**

"**Hey, can I come in?" he asked.**

"**Yes, yes," Ulquiorra said dismissively, not looking up from the not-so-happy cat. Her hair was bristling.**

"**Woah," Grimmjow said quietly, subdued a little. Clearly, he caught onto the mood in there. He stepped in and closed the door, but Ulquiorra barely noticed. He was in his zone, the one where he focused entirely on the animal or animals in front of him. This cat was sick. He had to find out why. He didn't notice Grimmjow coming up behind him, either, to look over his other shoulder until he was there and Ulquiorra felt crowded. He glanced up to shoot him a back-off look, but Grimmjow was staring with a bright curiosity at Sweetie. **

"**Please back up a little," he said, and Grimmjow's gaze flicked, surprised, down at him for a moment before he took a step back. Better. Ulquiorra turned back to Sweetie himself, moving his fingers more down towards the pelvis. It took nearly no time for the Persian to yowl unhappily, and Ulquiorra focused his attention. If it was in this area… yes. There was an abnormality, right there in the upper portion of the colon. Grimmjow was back to being glued to his back, but Ulquiorra didn't care. He leaned forward a little more, exploring with his hand. He frowned. **

"**What? Is it bad?" Mr. Shiahawa asked anxiously, leaning closer until he could feel his wet breath on his beck. Hm… chili cheese fritos? **

"**Yes," Ulquiorra said. Then he remembered that humans, unlike animals, didn't understand his emotions unless he voiced them and quickly added, "Unfortunately. I'm sorry to say that she does have a very prominent twist. Has she ever had any surgeries, or something that would create scarring?"**

"**Well-yes-she," Mr. Shiahawa stuttered, "she was attacked by a raccoon. But that was years ago, I don't see how that would…"**

"**Scar tissue sometimes grows past the point of being helpful," Ulquiorra explained. "No one knows why, but occasionally the scar tissue continues to grow after the wound is closed, and sometimes it grows **_**into**_** the body cavity, like a column of skin. I think that's what her intestines are wrapped around. You need to take her to a veterinarian, **_**fast**_**. She's in pain- and danger."**

"**I can't believe I didn't know," Mr. Shiahawa said, hushed. **

"**Don't blame yourself," Ulquiorra said, gently urging Sweetie back into her carrier. "Like I said, it just looks like pickiness to the untrained eye. At least we caught it. Here," he said, handing the crate over to the owner, who took it with a stunned look. "I'll ring you up real fast, and then I suggest you go to an urgent care facility. There's one on 21st**** and Montebello." he had maneuvered himself and his client into the main room of the store while he spoke, with Grimmjow trailing behind. He slid behind the counter, and Mr. Shiahawa set Sweetie down on it to fish out his wallet. He looked like he was still in a state of shock.**

"**How much?" he asked almost eagerly, as if any price would be fine by him.**

"**Twenty dollars," Ulquiorra answered, deciding quickly on the cost. It seemed fair to him. He pressed a button and the cash register's door slid open with a metallic sound. **

"**Twenty dollars?" Mr. Shiahawa asked. "You saved my cat's life, you have to take more than that!"**

"**She's not saved yet," Ulquiorra said, subtly denying the extra pay. "You'll need that money for the medical bill. If I'm right she'll probably require surgery." Mr. Shiahawa handed him a twenty gratefully, his little black eyes plainly conveying that he considered himself in debt; something that would good for Ulquiorra, not that he would extort it. Ulquiorra put the bill in the register and closed it, shaking Mr. Shiahawa's hand. "Please let me know how she does," he said, and he didn't just say it for the sake of being polite. Sweetie may have been a pampered, stuck-up brat, but she was a living animal. **

"**I definitely will," Mr. Shiahawa said, firmly grasping Ulquiorra's hand. "21****st and Montebello, you said?"**

"**That's right," Ulquiorra said as Mr. Shiahawa backed up to the door. "It's a beige building on your left. Best of luck."**

"**Thank you," Mr. Shiahawa said as he passed through the door. "Thank you!" Ulquiorra watched him get in his green Jeep and pull out, driving a little hazardous in his hurry. Ulquiorra sighed. Alright, onto the next thing. He turned and stooped, pulling a canister off of the ground.**

**Grimmjow, who had stood there all throughout quietly and a little slack-jawed, finally said something. "Ulquiorra?" he asked. **

"**Yes?" Ulquiorra grunted as he strained to lift the heavy container of sidewalk salt. **

"**That was kickass," Grimmjow said. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes and plopped the salt onto the counter heavily.**

"**Great. Go salt the ice on the sidewalks."**


	4. Chapter 4

It was snowing.

It was snowing, and his roof was leaking.

Ulquiorra put a bucket down on the floor near the ferrets, trying to keep the steady dripping off of the tiled floors. He hadn't ever had the grout sealed, because he'd never known that he had a leak in the roof. And, of course, said roof was flat and so collected the heavy snow, which certainly didn't help the crack that had to be there. He fought back the urge to sigh aggravatedly, standing back up as he wondered if there were any other leaks that hadn't shown up yet.

The bell above the door rang, and Ulquiorra looked over. Grimmjow had just walked in, wearing an orange oxford shirt and a thin windbreaker that didn't' look at all like it would keep him warm. "Hey boss man," he said. "Is there a leak in the roof?"

"Yes," Ulquiorra said as Grimmjow shrugged off his windbreaker. His sleeves were rolled up to just below the elbows still, despite the weather. "You know, I can see what that parakeet landed on you. Between your wild hair and your shirt, you look a little like a tropical flower." Grimmjow's mouth twitched.

"That ain't funny," he said.

"I didn't say it was," Ulquiorra replied honestly.

"Whatever," Grimmjow said. "What do you want me to do about that?" he asked, nodding to the bucket. Ulquiorra considered it for a second.

"I need you to take the ladder and shovel the snow off the roof," he said. "Are you comfortable doing that?"

"Course," Grimmjow said, already heading to the storage closet, leaving his windbreaker on the stool as he rummaged around for the snow shovel. Ulquiorra looked into the bucket- there was a coating of frigid water at least a centimeter deep over the bottom already. How quickly was the snow melting? The bell rang again, and Ulquiorra looked up to see a young woman with thick glasses walk in.

"Hello," he said, walking over to her. "Can I help you with something?"

~!$%^&*((*$!%$^&)(*&^!

Ulquiorra sat behind the counter, head in his hand. He was trying to fight off the headache he was getting from the insistent plip-plopping of water into the bucket, and not doing to great at it. His customer, a nice college girl, had left about thirty minutes ago, and Ulquiorra would have nothing to do for about 27 minutes until it was time to feed the cats. There were things to do, but he wanted Grimmjow to do them. That was why he had hired the teen, after all.

Speaking of Grimmjow, Ulquiorra could hear him chucking snow off of the roof above his head. The steady sound of the snow shovel scraping against the roof only augmented Ulquiorra's growing cerebral pressure. He rubbed at his forehead, trying to make it go away; he decided that he would have to go to bed earlier that night. Every now and again the roof creaked under Grimmjow's feet, and Ulquiorra began to get nervous. The last thing he needed was his one employee falling through the roof. He attributed this irrational worry to his headache, knowing that if the roof could support the steadily falling snow it could support Grimmjow's however-many pounds.

He looked at the mechanical display of his watch. 24 minutes left. He sighed, going back to messaging his temples in an attempt to stop the throbbing. He was getting antsy. He checked his watch again and shook his head, standing up. He wasn't a person who could very well handle having nothing to do, and he decided that he could find other things for Grimmjow to do when the teen got back in. he grabbed the broom, pulling the attached dustpan off with a harsh snap.

He walked over to the bird container, placing the dustpan on the top of the divided hexagon that was the bird cage. The red macaw facing him squawked and beat its big, beautiful wings confrontationally. Normally Ulquiorra would have just ignored him, but the screeching pierced through his skull painfully and he snatched the dustpan back, the macaw quieting. Ulquiorra sighed again, just holding onto the dustpan as he began to sweep up the pellets and newspaper scraps on the floor.

He gathered it all into a little pile, taking care that the black bristles got everything. He took the time to do it well, even though the soft swish of the broom against the grainy white tile only added to the cacophony in his head. He was just tightening his neat circle of birdy things when Grimmjow came back in, shaking out his head with that 'buh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh' sound that little kids thought was so funny. He wasn't wearing his jacket.

"Hey," he said when he saw Ulquiorra sweeping up, "I thought that was my job."

"Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said, "did you not wear your jacket out there?"

"Naw," Grimmjow said. "Why would I?"

"The logic behind it just may relate to the fact that it's snowing outside,: Ulquiorra remarked and Grimmjow stomped said precipitation off of hi shoes and onto the rubber mat.

"Well, yeah, I noticed that," Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "Look, it's not your problem if I don't, right? I just don't think it's cold, that's all." Ulquiorra shook his head, but returned to his work. Grimmjow was right, it was no concern of his if his worker chose not to wear a jacket outside. He hadn't grown so used to Grimmjow in the past week that if he were to get sick Ulquiorra would be stuck wondering what to do. Up until last Friday he had done everything himself, and he could easily go back to that.

"Fair enough. You need to get the ladder from outside," he said.

"Actually, I'm grabbing a piece of tarp to put over the crack," Grimmjow said. "That should stop the leaking until the snow melts off and I can get up there and fix it more permanently." Ulquiorra blinked at Grimmjow. He hadn't thought of doing something like that.

"Alright," he said, "you can cut a little square off the edge of the tarp in the supply closet, but don't take too much. There are scissors in the cup on the counter."

"I don't need 'em," Grimmjow said., "I've got a pocket knife." Ulquiorra shook his head, buy still when the dripping stopped he was relieved.

Maybe having Grimmjow around would prove to be better than he originally thought.

_**This is a brand new one for you all! I've deleted my other account, so I can focus entirely on this one, and I'll have a ton of new stuff for you this week! Also, if you want to see the layouts of some things so here: [.com/art/Part-time-Layouts-201601021] I hope you like it! Please R&R to let me know if the layouts are helpful!**_


	5. Chapter 5

Ulquiorra put his newly-bought mustard into the door of his old refrigerator, crumpling the plastic bag it had been in. He turned back to his counter and grabbed the 2 liter bottles of Coca-Cola, sliding them in. This fridge was beige now instead of white and it smelled strange from when his father left milk in there for a couple of years, but it was a good fridge. The house smelled like cigarette smoke though Ulquiorra had never touched the things and was relatively small and homey, but like the fridge Ulquiorra liked it the more for that. There were a lot of memories here, and not just his own.

He felt something small and relatively hard barrel into his leg, stumble back, and zoom away. He looked after the brown streak that was Mercielago, his pet ferret, then turned back to his task with merely one raised eyebrow. By now such an occurrence was commonplace. He placed the frozen peas in the vegetable door and closed the fridge, leaving out one microwavable meal for himself for diner. It was pasta with garlic sauce, crisp carrots, bell peppers, and peas; it was far better than most of the microwavable junk that he refused to put into his body. It was already nine 'o clock, likely too late to be eating, but he was hungry. He'd been unable to take a lunch break because of an influx of people in the afternoon.

He peeled back the plastic covering on the food a little to let out steam, then popped it in the microwave. Seeing as how this was what he ate the majority of the tie, he knew exactly how this was to be done. There was a small crash from the other room, and Mercielago came bolting back in. Ulquiorra gave him the 'what did you do this time?' look, and he stood on his back legs as if to challenge his owner. Ulquiorra sighed. Well, anything that existed in this house and wasn't under lock and key was either shatterproof or replaceable- usually the former, as Ulquiorra had long ago tired of cleaning up glass. The microwave beeped to a stop, and Ulquiorra grabbed a spoon to stir with.

His house was simply laid out, with only a main floor and a basement. When one first walks in the door, there is an open area that Ulquiorra had placed a table in that on its right had the flight of stairs and on its left opened into the kitchen. Both the kitchen and this front room were painted a brownish-orange that had always seemed nicely rustic to Ulquiorra. Past the kitchen was a large, high-ceilinged room that was beige in color and had a fireplace, a couch, and very little else. This was Ulquiorra's favorite room. Beside this room was another large room with a television, also mainly beige but sprinkled with bits of green. Nowhere on this floor were there doors.

The basement held the laundry room nestled under the stairs, as well as Ulquiorra's room, but it was mostly just vast amounts of space that Ulquiorra had filled neatly with random things for entertainment, such as a dart board and pool table. He rarely ever used either, but his grandfather had made them and so he kept them. There was also a couch, two chairs, and a table between them all that held a chessboard. Again, Ulquiorra rarely ever played, but that was more on account that he had no one to play against him than that he didn't find it enjoyable. There were only so many times one could play against oneself and find it scintillating.

The microwave beeped again, and Ulquiorra opened the door to stop it. He left his meal there to cool and walked into the front room the crash had come from. Sure enough, Mercielago had managed to get on top of the table and had knocked the platter of potpourri onto the ground, creating a huge, crunchy mess. Sighing lightly, Ulquiorra stooped down to gather the larger pieces back up. Mercielago darted up to him and chirruped, and Ulquiorra sent him another look. "You could stand to give me a little help, you know." Foreseeably, Mercielago just cocked his head. Great. Ulquiorra swatted at him to shoo him away, not wanting him to cause any more trouble.

Ulquiorra yawned, surprising himself. Ah, his life had gotten busier lately, so he supposed it should have been expected that he be tired earlier. At the same time, his stomach was urged into growling by the absolutely divine scent of his all-too-nutritious TV meal. Another testament to how crowded with activity his days were. His small business was beginning to grow, and though Grimmjow was hardworking and took as much of Ulquiorra's burden as he was allowed his tasks were still limited. Ulquiorra had grown to trust the teen more and more, but he still didn't want him handling the animals or manning the cash register. Although Ulquiorra assumed that he would have to teach Grimmjow to do feedings, at least, for his own health and sanity. He couldn't continue to work himself so hard, or he would deteriorate.

There was another crash in the television room, and Ulquiorra fought the urge to sigh again. It seemed that his tantalizing meal would have to wait.


	6. Chapter 6

"Grimmjow," Ulquiorra called, jotting down the last few things on his list as the teen stepped in, "come over here." Grimmjow looked at him, caught unguarded and still halfway through the act of removing his jacket. Once again, Ulquiorra could see that the fool was still wearing his light purple sleeves rolled up.

"Uh, okay," Grimmjow said slowly, "have I done something...?" Ulquiorra looked up at him.

"Why, Grimmjow, have you?" he asked.

"No, no," Grimmjow said quickly, "I just...you sounded pissed, boss-man." Ulquiorra blinked.

"I am not upset with you," he said, turning back to his chart. "I did not get much sleep last night. Now come over here, please, I have something to show you." He didn't mention that the reason for his lack of sleep was because of vast amounts of worry and careful thought over teaching Grimmjow this. Grimmjow threw his coat onto the hook by the door and came over, the usual spring in his step.

"Sorry you slept bad, boss-man," he said, "so, whaddaya need to-" he cut himself off as Ulquiorra thrust a legal pad into his hands, along with a pencil.

"You'll need to take notes," he said, walking out from behind the counter, "because I won't repeat myself. From now on whenever you're here you'll be feeding the animals. I'll take care of them when you're gone, but I need you to take this up for me. Each animal has specific dieting needs. The schedule is thus: at 6:30 the small birds need to be fed. The rabbits and guinea pigs are fed at 11:30. The large birds are fed at 12:00, the ferrets at 2:30. The cats eat at 3:00, and the reptiles and insects at 4:30. You also need to check their water when you feed them.

"All of the feed is stored behind the counter, and all are labeled clearly. I made sure of it. When you feed them, fill their bowls. The pinkies for the snakes are in the freezer, and you'll need to heat them up for about 45 seconds on power 8 for Elvis, the king snake, Lacy and George, the corn snakes, and Sarah, the ball python in the lower left corner there. The lizards, tarantulas, and scorpion all eat grasshoppers, which are kept in the storage room in that large mesh box. You've seen them. Put about 7 in each cage, except for in with the leopard geckos. Put 10 in there.

"The large birds can be finicky about you putting your hand in their enclosures, and Paulette, the blue one, has a tendency of biting. Always wear gloves when feeding her. The small birds do much better, but always make sure they're well away from the door when you open it or they may fly out. Rexel has been put in a separate place from the rest of the guinea pigs because she's pregnant, so don't forget about her. She'll need more food as the babies grow, I'll keep you posted.

"Watch Bruce, he's the black and white rabbit. The younger males have a tendency of eating the food before he can get to it. You might have to give him his own separate bowl once the others are occupied. The ferrets are usually sleeping when you feed them, which is by design. If they happen to be awake, come back later when they're not. A ferret that is untrained getting out into the rest of this store would be disastrous. Even trained ferrets cause their fair share of chaos, believe me.

"As for the cats, they each have specific eating habits. The first two columns of cages, that is the say the two columns closest to the door, are all cats who prefer Purina. The top four cages in the next column prefer Blue, the bottom two and the whole next column prefer Healthy Cat, and the other three prefer some obscure Swedish brand that I can't pronounce. All of these are in the back room. There is a cat, Willis, who is in the sick room right now, as he has a respiratory infection, which cats get very easily. Under normal circumstances he would eat Blue but I am currently feeding him a high-vitamin regimen. You are not to feed him until he is off that regimen, which should be in a few days. Also Genevieve has a cyst on her eye, if you catch her scratching it be sure to tell me. I may have to put her in a cone.

"You are not to handle the animals. Just give them their food and move on. If you observe any strange behavior or injuries, you are to report them to me. This includes cats having trouble breathing or coughing- as I said before, respiratory infections are easily caught between cats, so the instant you suspect anything tell me. You don't have to be certain. Do not take any action on such things by yourself. Your other duties still apply, but if it is time to feed the animals I will not object to you stopping in a task to do so as long as you return to it when you are done. Feedings always take immediate priority. Do you have all that written down?"

Grimmjow was scribbling frantically on the legal pad, the speed of his hands nowhere near as fast as Ulquiorra's mouth. And Ulquiorra had really been rattling it off. Fact was, Ulquiorra wanted to take the leap and have it over with. He was still uncertain whether or not he was making the right decision. "I...ah..." Grimmjow said, trying to remember what wasn't written down yet. Ulquiorra walked over to the counter, grabbed the papers there, and handed them to his employee. Grimmjow blinked at them.

"These are..." he said, taking them.

"Everything you need to know," Ulquiorra said. Grimmjow suddenly scowled.

"Then why'd you make me take notes?" he shouted at Ulquiorra as the older man walked calmly to the bird cages with his hands in his pockets.

"That way I know you were listening," Ulquiorra said simply. "And Grimmjow- you're five minutes late to feed the cats." He heard Grimmjow gasp and run over to the storage room. He sighed.

He could only hope that he hadn't just made a mistake.


	7. Chapter 7

Grimmjow showed up to help open the store. On a Monday.

"Grimmjow, what are you doing here?" Ulquiorra asked, huddling is coat closer to himself as he unlocked the door. Yet again, Grimmjow seemed to barely feel the chilling cold, even as the snow fell on him.

"Working," Grimmjow said simply.

"On a Monday?" Ulquiorra asked dubiously, walking into the store. For the animal's sake he always kept the heating on during the winter, including when he was at home, and once the door closed behind them he was much warmer. "Do I have to remind you that you must keep your grades up to work here?"

"It's Christmas break," Grimmjow said. Ulquiorra blinked.

"I see," he said, hanging his coat up. The snowflakes were melting into dewdrops.

"Don't worry, boss-man," Grimmjow started, but Ulquiorra couldn't hear what he was saying over the clatter of the nets on the windows being raised. Lately Grimmjow had taken it upon himself to do all such things involving physical labor, and Ulquiorra had no plans to stop him. The older man flipped on the lights, and there was stirring in the cages as the animals were jolted out of slumber; the parrots squawked before settling again, flapping their wings without taking off.

When the clatter stopped, Ulquiorra turned to Grimmjow. "Grimmjow, calling me 'boss-man' is hardly professional," he said. "I can understand addressing me as such when there are customers present, but when there are not I would prefer to be called by my name." Grimmjow scrunched up his face.

"Isn't that...weird, though?" the teenager asked, and Ulquiorra mentally rolled his eyes.

"Calling someone you've known for a month by their name is hardly strange, Grimmjow," he said wryly. "Or is your attention span so short that you've forgotten mine already?" Grimmjow's hackles rose as he rankled.

"Is yours so short that you've forgotten what a _damn good job_ I've been doing, _Ulquiorra?" _he retorted.

"Hardly," Ulquiorra said easily, sitting behind the counter. "You have been working quite hard. Did you not notice the amount on your paycheck last week?" Grimmjow blinked.

"What?" he asked dumbly.

"I supposed not," Ulquiorra said "I gave you a raise. You are now being paid $8.00 an hour." Ulquiorra thought this was only fair; their day was fourteen hours long, starting early and ending late, and for a teenager giving such a huge amount of time showed great dedication. Although Grimmjow's job was physically tiring on top of this, the boy never complained.

"Seriously?" Grimmjow asked, eyes going wide.

"It's only fifty cents, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said, "no need to get so excited." Grimmjow beamed.

"Thanks, boss-man! Ulquiorra," he corrected quickly as he was pegged with Ulquiorra's 'really?' look. "I mean it. Thanks a ton."

"Yes, yes," Ulquiorra said, pulling an ordering catalog out form his briefcase along with his money book. He wasn't a particularly paranoid person, but he was cautious enough to wish to be the only one managing his books. "We'll be ordering some fish, and I need you to get stated building shelves into the wall for them like I've done with the snakes. I would prefer they be on this wall behind me, in the corner next to the snakes, and I need to be able to fit standard-sized aquariums on them. The wood is in the back room."

"Gotcha!" Grimmjow said, verily bouncing to get started. Ulquiorra shook his head, opening his catalog to the aquatic life selection. His employee seemed to always be as energetic as a year-old puppy.

Honestly, Ulquiorra didn't mind.

.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.

"Would you like to hold one?" Ulquiorra asked, and the little girl beamed at him. She was a cute little girl, but if she kept plastering her face against the glass she was going to scare the guinea pigs.

"Hold on, sweetpea," her father said, "the guinea pigs may be in our budget, but we would need a lot of things for him." The little girl's face fell.

"Actually, we have a policy of selling you everything but the animal at half price if you get everything you'll need," Ulquiorra said. "And I can help you determine what is required and what isn't.

"Can we, Daddy? Can we, can we, please?" the girl asked, holding her father's hand in her own little fingers and getting in very close to him. Ulquiorra could see the father wavering between pleasing his wallet and pleasing his daughter, but didn't interject. If they weren't ready for the financial responsibility of a pet, then it was better if they didn't pretend to be. The father sighed.

"Let me talk to the nice man to see what we would need, honey," he said, "but! That's not necessarily a yes, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy!" the girl chirped, as if knowing that a victory was won. "I'll just stay here and look at them."

"Good girl," her father said. "I'll be right back." Ulquiorra followed him a safe distance away, into the aisles, then took the lead to the rodent section. As his shop was rather small there were only a few aisles, but he kept them well stocked. The section in question was only half of one side of one aisle, but it had all the essentials. "So, what are we looking at?" the father asked.

"Well, of course you'll be needing a cage," Ulquiorra said. "I would tell you this one is generally best for guinea pigs due to its size, and it's also decently durable so it's unlikely you'll have to replace it any time soon. Food is another essential, naturally, and over here we have a blend that I've found works for the majority of rodents. There's a good-size water bottle here, and you'll need a ball for him or her to run around in. I do consider that a requirement, because it's very important that a guinea pig be given fifteen to twenty minutes of exercise a day. The ball is the most hassle-free way to obtain that.

"Bedding can be found right here, and I would suggest using this brand. You can get this kind, but generally animals prefer wood shavings. There are other things you can get, of course, but the only other thing that I would say you have to have are these wooden chew sticks. Chewing on things is a guinea pig's natural way to keep their teeth from growing too dull." The father nodded, arms crossed.

"So about how much would that cost?" he asked. Ulquiorra quickly noted his pricing.

"With the guinea pig, it would come to... $107.81," he said. The father looked impressed.

"With the half off?" he asked.

"Yes," Ulquiorra said. The father looked back to where the little girl stood with her hands against the glass.

"Okay, we'll do it," he said. Ulquiorra nodded.

"Very well, I'll gather the things that take them to the register," he said. "You should ask your daughter which one she's thinking of, so I can tell you his or her personality. It's very important that you get along with your pet." Through this he was grabbing the smaller items off the shelf, planning to come back and get the large bag of bedding and the cage. Where was Grimmjow? He could have the teen do it, but Grimmjow was nowhere to be seen. He had gone in to feed the cats a while ago, but he should have been out by now.

As his customers mulled over which guinea pig they wanted, Ulquiorra hauled their items over and rang them up. It had been a few months since someone had bought an animal from him. When everything had been wrung up, he opened the cage and set it up of them to carry their new pet home in.

"We've decided," the father said as Ulquiorra opened the bag of bedding. "We would like the little brown one with the white on his forehead."

"Theodore," Ulquiorra said. "He's generally pretty mellow, and he's never shown aggression towards me or the other animals. He can be a bit noisy at night, though, so I wouldn't suggest keeping him in your room."

"That's okay!" the little girl said. "Can I take him out?"

"I'll get him out," Ulquiorra said, closing the now fully prepared cage and coming around. "Have you ever had a guinea pig before?"

"No, we haven't," the father said. Ulquiorra lifted the lid of the enclosure.

"You always pig up a guinea pig like this- with two hands around their middle," Ulquiorra informed them. "You can carry him with just one hand, as long as you keep him secure against your chest." He demonstrated that hold for them as he walked back to the cage he'd readied. "He'll need fifteen to thirty minutes in his ball for exercise a day, like I said before, and you feed him once a day. Try to keep the feeding schedule consistent. You should put his cage on your kitchen table or another spot with a lot of activity for the first few days so he can become accustomed to all of you and to your house. If you have any pets, make sure that any time they're around he's either in his cage or his ball, for safety.

"If you find him acting strangely or seeming like he's injured, you can bring him here for a low-cost check up. If there's anything seriously wrong you'll have to take him to a vet, but I can tell you if that's required. Also, if he needs grooming I can do that as well. If you run out of anything you can get it here, and if you no longer wish or are able to take care of him bring him back here. I won't give you a refund, but I will take him off your hands. The Humane Society is no place for an animal who has another option. Do you have any questions?"

"No, I think we're good," the father said, and Ulquiorra nodded.

"Swipe your card when you're ready," he said, setting Theodore in his new cage gently. Theodore looked around with his round, black eyes curiously, and Ulquiorra looked at him for a moment before turning back to his customers, the father signing his name on the electric signature machine.

Ulquiorra helped them carry everything to their car, the little girl smiling up at her father and carrying Theodore's cage. He thanked them for their business and saw them off before heading back inside, looking around for his apparently missing employee. Who was still not to be found. Ulquiorra frowned, hoping that Grimmjow had not gone around slacking or idling int he cat room, for then Ulquiorra would regret that raise. He was going to open the door swiftly and catch Grimmjow at whatever it was he was doing, but as he neared the door he heard Grimmjow speaking. His curiosity piqued, he only cracked the door open to look inside.

"You know, I can't be doing this," Grimmjow said reasonably to the tabby cat that sat close to the bars of her kennel looking at him. Grimmjow was crouching down to look at her, seeming not to care that she was all the way at the bottom of the stack. "If I pet you and Ulquiorra catches me, he'll have my job." The cat looked up expectantly with her big eyes, and Ulquiorra could see Grimmjow wavering. He opened the door and leaned against the door jamb, crossing his arms to watch.

Grimmjow heaved a huge sigh, sitting down. "Alright, fine," he said, "but just this once, okay?" The cat mewed, as if in agreement, and Ulquiorra saw Grimmjow's tough exterior melt. He put his hand between the bars and scratched the cat's head behind her ears, and the cat stood and rubbed her side against his palm. Grimmjow smiled a little gleefully as the cat started to purr. Ulquiorra found himself intrigued by Grimmjow's gentle ministrations, and by his happy face. His usual slightly angry look had dissolved,and he looked like a little boy excited just to pet the kitty cat. Ulquiorra hadn't thought the rough and wild teenager would be so calm and loving to an animal he didn't know.

"Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said, and Grimmjow leapt up. He looked like a cross between a deer in the headlights and a guilty child with their hand caught in the cookie jar.

"Boss-man!" Grimmjow said, fear leaking into his eyes. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again, _please_ don't fire me, please, I really like it here-"

"Grimmjow," Ulquiorra stopped him warningly. Grimmjow fell tensely silent. "Her name is Turtle. My neighbor abandoned her and she was walking around my front yard. She seems to have an affinity for having her spine petted." Grimmjow's eyes went wide, uncertain but incredibly hopeful. "Speaking of turtles, I'll have to order one," Ulquiorra said, dismissing the topic. "Now come finish those shelves. Oh, and it you like it so much here- stop calling me boss-man." Ulquiorra shot the blue-haired boy a look over his shoulder as he closed the door. He wasn't three feet away when he heard Grimmjow start chuckling, then laughing in relief in the cat room. Ulquiorra shook his head. Perhaps Grimmjow hadn't been such a bad decision after all.

He'd never thought that people other than himself looked at animals like that.


	8. Chapter 8

It was unusually dark when Ulquiorra woke up. He frowned and looked at his beeping alarm block as e sat up, knowing that no matter the time he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. But the clock displayed in red digital numbers that it was, in fact, five thirty, when Ulquiorra woke up. Ulquiorra frowned, getting out of bed. His bedroom was in the basement, but he had a window above his bed with a pit dug down into it, and even as early as it was there should have been some light. Ulquiorra knelt on his pillows, pulling his curtains open.

His eyes widened slightly. The entire window was blocked by mottled piles of...was that snow? Ulquiorra's frown deepened. He knew there was supposed to be snow overnight, but for it to block the window it had to be a foot deep. His car was ill-equipped for such bad weather, and the roads around here were rarely plowed since they were a decent ways from the main thoroughfares. It would be difficult for him to get to work if this was so, and he couldn't be late as the animals needed to be fed and he was the only one with a key. He would likely have to leave far earlier to get there on time.

He closed the curtains, clambering off his bed. There was no telling how long it could take him to get to a cleared road, so he had better forgo his shower. The animals wouldn't mind, and he didn't much care how Grimmjow would think of it. Life happened. It was unfortunate, though, as he did prefer being clean, but the animals had to eat. The house was frigid, and he was glad he'd left his pipes dripping the previous night or he could have had a large problem on his hands. He turned on his closet light, the clinical glare bright in the otherwise black room, and pulled out a pair of black slacks and a white shirt. He had very few articles of clothing that were not his work clothes, as he was at work the majority of the time.

He got dressed swiftly, accidentally stepping on Mercielago, who squeaked indignantly and scrambled onto Ulquiorra's disheveled bed to curl up in a safer place. Sorry," Ulquiorra apologized rather lacklusterly, as he pulled his pants up over fresh boxers. Mercielago didn't respond, and once his pants were on and buckled Ulquiorra appeased him by running two fingers along the ferret's sleek body down his spine. Mercielago rolled a chirp happily, and Ulquiorra considered his sin expunged.

He buttoned the second-to-last button under his neck, carrying his belt with him as he walked out of his room, passing the pool table and starting up the stairs on sock-protected feet. He came up the stairs and made immediately for the kitchen, flipping on the lights and turning the water off. It was slightly warmer up here, but still quite chilly. He pulled out an English muffin from the pantry, thinking of how he was going to have to put chains on his tires as he began toasting them. He should put a snow shovel in his trunk as well, just in case. If it was truly a foot deep he could need it.

About three years ago they had been hit up by a massive blizzard, and Ulquiorra alone had tried to get out f his house. He had to- unlike everyone else, there were tiny lives depending on him. But it had been hard going. The snow had been a foot and a half deep, and Ulquiorra had been forced to shovel the snow out of the road as he went. It had taken him an hour and forty minutes to get to a plowed road, and by then his hands and cheeks had been red with had no desire to go through with that again, but he would if he had to.

He bit into his jelly-slathered muffin, making it like a sandwich to keep the raspberry jam from falling all over the place. He slipped his shoes on, along with a heavy coat over a thinner windbreaker, a pair of gloves, a scarf, and a Russian-style hat that was fake-fur lined. The flaps covered his ears. He knew that this could be quite a trial, and he did not intend to be caught unawares by Jack Frost. He held his breakfast between his teeth and went to open the door.

It wouldn't open.

He frowned and checked the lock, but naturally he'd unlocked it earlier. He pulled again, harder, and the door made a grinding, crunching sound like snow being stepped on slowly. It was like someone was holding the door shut on the other side, and Ulquiorra's stomach began to sink. He pulled again hard a few times, but the door only budged a few centimeters. He began to worry very distinctly. He shut the door fully and tried again, but it was no use.

Closing the doors again, he ran to the large windows in the front room that looked out onto the street. He pulled the blinds up roughly, knowing it would be difficult to get them back down again but not caring. He found himself staring into the grey dawn coming up over a flat ground of snow that _came up to his chest._ He gaped in horror at what had to be a snow drift no less than four feet in height plastered against the side of his house, and he knew it with a sick feeling in his gut.

He was snowed in.


End file.
